A number of years ago I read the story Darlene In Discipline House, originally produced by Rosslyn News in 1966. It's been a number of places online over the years, but I've always wondered if this was the entire story, or if there was more to it. The cover indicates it was part 1, but I've never been able to find if there were any other parts, or if part 2 had a different title. It has turned up for sale occasionally, and the listings say it contains 8 photos, and there were 8 photos, which makes me wonder if this really is the complete text. Like a lot of other books of the time, the photos are fairly generic and not related to the story. I was wondering if anyone knows any more about it or has ever seen more of the story. For anyone interested, the story is below.
This resentment of Darlene's mother became a shadow which darkened the young girl's life, unsuspecting though she was of its real motivation. There was another reason too. Beverly Tilson loved fine clothes and jewelry, dining at fashionable restaurants and being seen at the theater. Though her husband was wealthy, he was also something of a miser so far as extravagances were concerned, which is what he termed her penchants for finery and costly entertainment.
Darlene's father had been an insurance salesman, not particularly successful, but he had left a policy for his daughter's college education and living expenses in the event of his untimely death. The policy was in the amount of $50,000, and his will stipulated that the money was to be kept in trust until Darlene turned twenty-one. Beverly Tilson was named the executrix of her brother-in-law's estate, and as such she had control of the money. Darlene knew nothing about this policy nor the provisions of her father's will, and Beverly Tilson had no intention of telling her. During the two years which the lovely young girl spent in the Tilson house on Courtland Boulevard, her aunt showed no affection for her whatsoever. And by now she had conceived a plan to rid herself of her niece and at the same time take over Darlene's inheritance to use for her own pleasures. I£ the girl were sent to a reformatory or a juvenile home for misdemeanors or crimes, she would continue to hold the money in trust. She could very easily arrange with a most unscrupulous lawyer friend of hers, one Brand Oliver by name, to spend a good deal of money in legal defense of her niece and charge it off to the estate. Oliver would split the difference with her. She had already approached him on the subject and found him most amenable to her suggestion.
The Tilsons lived in Markheim, a small town about 175 miles northwest of Los Angeles. About 50 miles away, on the outskirts of a little town of Corduva, there was a girls' reformatory. Beverly Tilson had driven by it once when she had made a leisurely automobile trip to the big city, and her seeing it gave her the ingredients of the plot she was hatching against her lovely and unsuspecting niece.
The county court of Markheim was presided over by an elderly judge, the Honorable Donald Jackson. He was almost sixty-five and disgruntled over not having won higher judicial status so that he could hold court in one of the big cities at a much higher salary. He had a taste for fine French wines and first-edition books, hobbies which cost money. Beverly Tilson has already invited him to dinner at a swanky Los Angeles restaurant while he was in the City of the Angels during a conference of county officials. She had flattered his ego and proposed a hypothetical case whereby he could profit with no ones being the wiser. And she found that he could be corrupted by money. Ten thousand dollars, to be exact. It was well worth that much to be rid of Darlene, because then she would have the rest of the money minus the agreed on split with Brand Oliver.
Gregory Tilson, of course, knew nothing of this plot. However, he wasn't overly fond of children either, especially as he found he could have none of his own. So there was no real affection for Darlene in his heart, either, which made his wife's machinations that much more likely to succeed.
Her skin was an enviable warm creamy tint, and it enhanced a superbly voluptuous figure. Her full high-arching, round breasts were already straining at the bodice of the modestly cut dresses she wore, and her slim waist flared into breathtakingly rounded hips. Her calves and thighs were beautifully proportioned and delightfully curvacious. She had inherited the soft sweet voice of her mother, and she was shy and gentle by nature, as her mother had been. Needless to say, she had never known the ignominy of corporal chastisement. Her parents hadn't believed in it, and although Beverly Tilson many times would dearly have loved to turn her lovely niece over her lap and acquaint her with the humiliation and pain of a vengeful spanking, she had to date never once yielded to this sadistic impulse. Beverly Tilson was quite content with the scheme she had concocted for getting Darlene out of the way and taking over the girl's legacy. If Judge Jackson sentenced Darlene to serve in the Corduva Girls Reformatory, she knew very well that her niece would not take long to learn what corporal chastisement really was. For, once having determined her plan, she had already begun to put it into execution. She had paid a visit to the reformatory and met the superintendent, a stout, dour spinster in her mid-forties named Marion Sinclair. Marion Sinclair, twenty years ago, had had a similar experience of thwarted romance just as Beverly Tilson had. So after the imposing brunette had visited Miss Sinclair's office and stated that she was greatly interested in the rehabilitation of errant young girls and would like to know how Miss Sinclair disciplined and guided them to self-improvement, the reformatory superintendent had found in Darlene's aunt a kindred spirit.
Several further visits made the two women virtual friends, and after the fifth visit, Marion Sinclair unbent sufficiently to take Darlene's aunt on a very special and private tour of inspection of the reformatory.
"We have a certain leeway, Mrs. Tilson," the superintendent gushed as she led the haughty brunette matron down a narrow corridor in the basement of the main building where her own office was situated. "We don't stand any nonsense from any of our girls. As you know, Mrs. Tilson, we have about three hundred of the little baggages, ranging from thirteen to twenty-one. And no matter whether the girl happens to be the youngest or the oldest, she knows if she disobeys our rules, she gets a licking."
Beverly Tilson pretended great surprise at this welcome news. "You mean you actually spank them?" she inquired, making an effort to disguise her intense interest in the answer. The superintendent nodded with a beaming smile: "We certainly do, Mrs. Tilson. As a matter of fact, seeing that you are of such a sympathetic turn of mind and admire the work we're doing here, I thought you might like to see exactly how we do discipline them."
"Why, yes, Miss Sinclair, I really would like to see that. You see, I have a niece at home who is a great problem to me. Her parents, alas, never took the trouble to bring her up prop erly, and they died some years ago so that I was saddled with the responsibility of her upbringing. I loved my sister very much, you understand, Miss Sinclair, and I've always hesitated to apply physical correction out of respect for my dear sister."
Marion Sinclair nodded. "The sentiment does you credit. There are so many girls like that, you know. They are pampered and spoiled by their folks, and then suddenly they don't have anybody to look after them and they run wild. But we don't let them do that here, you can be sure of that. This afternoon, we are going to see how Matron Ellis punishes a naughty girl who had the temerity to talk back to her in the dining room
last night. One thing I cannot abide is disrespect and Insubordination."
"You are so right, dear Miss Sinclair," purred Beverly Tilson. She could hardly conceal her impatience to watch the forthcoming spectacle. The superintendent led her to the end of the hall, put her finger to an electric buzzer and pressed it. In a moment, a bolt was drawn back and the door was swung inward. It was opened by a gray-haired, bony, stern-faced woman wearing a matron's uniform of short-sleeved blouse, black silk skirt, and a whistle hanging from z little gold chain around her neck. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," she greeted the superintendent with an unctuous smile. "We're just about ready to bring Doroth, down for punishment, and we were waiting for you."
"Thank you, Matron Ellis," the superintendent smiled. Then turning to Beverly Tilson, she said, "This Is a very dear friend of mine, Mrs. Tilson, who wishes to see something of our methods She has, she has just informed me, a most trying niece at home who has never learned what true discipline really is."
"I don't hope that we shall ever have her here, Mrs. Tilson the matron fawningly declared. "But if that should ever be the case, you may rest assured that we know how to handle trouble makers and disobedient girls. Miss Sinclair is such a fine superintendent, and she gives us matrons full responsibility for administering correction when we sincerely believe it is merited Won't you come in and sit down?"
Her heart beating more rapidly, and her eyes glowing with anticipation, Darlene's aunt stepped into the room. It was a wide chamber, windowless, and opposite the door through which she entered was a narrower door through which undoubtedly the culprit and her guard would soon appear. What interested Beverly Tilson most was the furnishing of this punishment room, for such it undoubtedly was. Along one wall, from a panoply of hooks,
Beverly Tilson saw an array of spanking instruments. There were wooden and leather paddles of varying shapes and sizes; an object that looked like a long handled bath brush with extremely stiff horsehair bristles; several English canes of malacca and rattan and even an English birch rod composed of about a dozen switches with ends that were tightly gathered and wrapped in a black cloth which furnished a handle; various kinds of leather straps, including the famous tawse with its doubly thick handle-end and its length ending in two separated strips six inches long, like fingers.
Near this wall, there was a low flat wooden bench. In the center of the room was a heavy iron footstool whose legs were set into the floor and whose top was padded with leather on whose outer surface scratchy horsehair had been affixed. There was also a heavy straight-backed chair, its legs also fixed into the floor so that the culprit's contortions and struggles could not topple it, with a series of buckling straps lying on the seat ready for use. There was also an upright round wooden post with a crossarm at the top, and at each end of the crossarm a heavy metal ring was affixed. At the end of one section of the wall nearest the door, there'were several comfortable, upholstered chairs, to one of which Miss Sinclair now gestured Darlene's aunt. "Please make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Tilson," she invited,"and we shall watch together an example of the kind of discipline which is given here to rebellious girls."
The two women sat down and waited. In a few minutes, the other door was opened, and Matron Ellis first appeared. Behind her, another matron followed, a blonde, coarse-faced middle-age woman who was stockily built and the short sleeves of whose uniform blouse disclosed powerful biceps. She had hold of the wrist of a frightened, very lovely red-haired girl who could have been more than fourteen, and who was evidently reluctant enter the punishment room, judging from the way she planted he feet on the floor and tried to tug back.
"Now, now, Dorthy," Miss Sinclair chided in a maternal to "don't add to the seriousness of your case by struggling again Matron Farwell. You know you must be punished for being so I dent and rude to Matron Ellis, and your only chance of lessen your punishment is if you accept it humbly and promise never repeat your serious offense again."
The girl had already begun to sniffle with justifiable apprehension, but she let the stout blonde matron lead her to wards the center of the room. The matron seated herself on t: straight-backed chair, while Dorothy remained standing, her h; clasped, her fingers twisting restlessly, a look of anguish o: her pert face. She was slim, of medium height, but under the drab reformatory costume of a black, long-sleeved blouse and black skirt which descended to the middle of her calves, rough black woolen stockings and heavy work shoes, it was evident t: her hips and bosom were already startlingly mature. Her face heartshaped and freckled, with a charming tawny complexion th accentuated them. She had a high, spacious forehead, and her coppery red hair was shaped in helmet style, framing her face and with a low fringe along the middle of her forehead which added to the piquancy of her features. Her eyes were graygreen, widely spaced between the bridge of a saucy, snub nose and her ripe sulky, curving mouth and firm defiant little chin betrayed the rebellious streak of her temperament which had obviously brought her to the punishment room.
The two matrons waited, looking at the superintendent for their orders, both quivering with impatience to proceed. Beverly Tilson's nostrils dilated and her eyes glowed with that same eagerness. She was seeing in this frightened though still somewhat sulkily defiant redhead her own niece . . . and the vision was'entrancing.
"This isn't the first time you've been down here, is it, Dorothy?" Miss Sinclair demanded in a deceivingly gentle voice. Dorothy shook her head, bit her lips, staring fixedly at the floor.
"When I speak to you, Dorothy, I expect an answer," Miss Sinclair commented without raising her voice. She eyed the tall bony matron. "See that she has an extra half-dozen for that, Matron Ellis."
"Very good, Ma'am."
"This is actually your third time in eighteen months, Dorothy. And you know our rules. For every succeeding time that you are brought down here, your punishment is increased. Let me see, Matron Ellis. How was she disciplined the last time?"
"The usual handspanking, Ma'am, then a dozen with the oval pinewood paddle. And then a half-dozen with the strap."
"Very well. Dorothy, for your own good and because we must maintain discipline here and establish respect for those in authority over you and your companions, you are going to receive first the customary handspanking to prepare your bottom for the rest of the punishment. Matron Ellis, after Matron Farwell has given Dorothy her spanking, you will place her over the punishment stool and apply twenty strokes of the leather sole, and then after a suitable pause, during which time I sincerely trust she will repent her insubordination, you will give her half a dozen with the tawse."
"Yes, Ma'am," the bony, gray-haired matron nodded. "And then there is the extra you just sentenced her to, Ma'am."
"Oh, yes, Matron Ellis. Thank you for reminding me. That will be a dozen with the tawse, the last three over her thighs. You may proceed."
During the pronouncement of her sentence, the young girl slowly raised her anguished face, her eyes widening in terror at the conclusion of it. Then sinking down on her knees and wringing her hands, she tearfully burst, "Oh, please, Ma'am, not so much; I didn't mean to be rude, truly I didn't! Not with the tawse on the bare, please! Please let me off the tawse, this one time, Ma'am!"
The superintendent smiled with a hypocritical tenderness. "Now, Dorothy, you know very well that once a sentence is issued, it must be carried out. If you hadn't disobeyed and acted th way you did, you wouldn't be receiving this, you understand. you know also that you must submit, don't you? Otherwise, I be regretfully forced to add to your punishment. You don't w to do that, do you?"
Her shoulders shaking with convulsive, stifled sobs, the pretty redhead shook her head and then slowly, miserably rose her feet.
Beverly Tilson leaned toward the superintendent to whisp "Apparently, Miss Sinclair, these girls are instructed how to have during punishment?"
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Tilson. From the very first day they are carcerated here, they are given a set of our rules to memoriz The first time even that any one of them has occasion to be s to the punishment room, she is expected to prepare herself. Failure to do so always increases the chastisement. We find a very effective means of curbing rebellion. Now Dorothy, al she is only 14 1/2, has a tendency to argue and discuss like girl nearly 20, but even she knows how severely she would be punished if she were now to discuss and argue any further. You' see." With this the superintendent sat back, folding her arm across her bosom, a beatific smile on her face. Then, to the trembling culprit, she cooed: "You may prepare for punishment Dorothy."
Dorothy hesitated for an instant, glancing at Darlene's aunt. Her lovely tawny skin reddened with shame at the knowledge that a visitor who had nothing to do with the reformatory was about to see her chastisement. Miss Sinclair gave Darlene's aunt a quick, appreciative glance, and then sternly commanded: "Never mind my guest, Dorothy. You heard the order. Prepare yourself, unless you want me to have the matrons add to your punishment!"
"Oh, no, Miss Sinclair, please, I -- I'm going to do it right -- right away!" the pretty red-haired youngster quavered in a scared voice. She reached behind her and with trembling fingers unfastened the coarse black woolen skirt, let it drop about her ankles, then hastily picked it up, and glanced about helplessly. The superintendent interposed: "For this once, Dorothy, you may leave it on the floor. Now hurry. I am becoming very vexed with you, my girl!"
The unfortunate culprit began to tremble, her face flushing hotly at this menacing rebuke. Beverly Tilson saw that Dorothy was wearing elastic garters to hold up the black woolen stockings which clambered halfway up her slender but delightfully firm and well-proportioned thighs. Now that the skirt was removed, she could see that the girl had a more ample posterior than she would have guessed. It was snugly shaped out in a pair of dark gray cotton bloomers, with elastic at the waistband and at the legs, which reached almost to the tops o£ her stockings, leaving a soft sheened inch of quivering tawny bare skin visible. Dorothy bit her lips and was seen to shiver as she slowly put her slim little hands to the waistband of these bloomers and began very reluctant to pull them down from her buttocks. When she had disengaged the: as far as the elastic-enforced hems, she straightened a little an moved over towards Matron Farwell who was seated in the heavy straight-backed chair whose metal legs were fixed into the floor.
The stocky blonde matron wasted no time in taking charge of her unhappy victim. Seizing Dorothy by the shoulders, she dragge, the already whimpering girl across her spacious lap, adjusted her till the youngster's body was pressed as tightly against her torso as could be effected, and then circled her powerful left arm round the culprit's waist. Dorothy, with a tremulous sob, reached down for the rungs of the chair and grasped them so tightly that her knuckles whitened, while she abandoned herself.
The matron reached down, and with her right hand dragged down the bloomers till they festooned around Dorothy's calves, thus acting as an effective fetter to prevent the threshing of her legs under the duress of punishment.
A quivering silence fell over the witnesses as well as the two chief actresses of this drama hidden within the four grim walls of the reformatory punishment chamber. For Beverly Tilson, it was an enervating moment. She had never before actually witnessed the act of corporal punishment. The straight-backed chair was so placed that from her vantage point she could look directly at the upreared naked bottom of the quivering victim. From the gracefully curving columns of Dorothy's thighs, her buttocks rose with a pleasing amplitude, considering that she was not quite fifteen. The cheeks were vivaciously rounded, with a broad, shadowy furrow separating them. In her anguished apprehension and her shame at being thus displayed before a stranger as well as the other matron and the superintendent, Dorothy had tightened the muscles of her legs and bottom to the maximum, as if to diminish not only the immodesty of what she revealed but also its considerable vulnerability.
The coarse black woolen stockings as well as the black blouse, which the matron now shoved up a little higher on the girl's back -- an unnecessary precaution, and inflicted on the culprit as still another nuance of humiliation to which she need submit -- was most exciting. Dorothy's skin was a warm tawny hue, and her lissom young back was deeply hollowed down to the chinkbone, whose prominence seemed to set off even more the effulgence of the firmly rounded contours of her bare bottom.
Matron Farwell turned her head to the right to catch the superintendent's eye. Miss Sinclair nodded, and leaned back in her chair, a faint smile on her lips. The matron tightened the grip of her left arm around the youngster's waist, and slowly passed her right hand over the tensing, huddling cheeks of Dorothy's bare behind. The culprit caught her breath with an audible gasp, knowing that this prelude signified the almost imminent commencement of her ordeal. She bowed her head down still farther, eyes tightly closed, and her slim little fingers restlessly shifted along the rungs of the chair to steel herself. Matron Farwell's hand slowly roamed over the quivering buttocks, appraising their resilience and likely resistance to the chastisement. Then abruptly, and without warning, she raised her right hand and brought it down sharply, the palm smacking noisely against the top of Dorothy's right buttock. Instantly the young girl stiffened, her hips seemed to swerve, and another stifled gasp was heard. Beverly Tilson saw a pink splotch slowly rise on the immaculate tawny sheen where the matron's hand had fallen for the first time. A moment later, with an equally sonorous sound, an equalizing outline of the matron's punishing palm was imprinted in bright pink on Dorothy's left bottom-globe, again drawing a faint gasp and a nervous squirming of the lovely bare hips.
For Beverly Tilson, the room was empty except for the red-haired culprit and her executioner. Her eyes glistened with avid excitement as they watched the matron's powerful right hand rise and fall, rise and fall, in a relentless and methodica cadence which spaced the stinging, smacking blows about ten seco apart, alternating them on the girl's naked buttocks, first righ then left. Matron Farwell was an accomplished correctress. Diligently she assailed poor little Dorothy's naked seat with crisp sonorous slaps, which descended from the summits to the tops restlessly squirming and shifting thighs, then ascended the gently rounded bottom-cheeks to the tops of the hips. She would then pause, then deliver two quick, smart slaps to the ripest arc of each buttock; and then the spanking resumed in the same unvarying pattern.
Dorothy did her best to remain stoic during this first part of her punishment. Not only was it obligatory upon her to remain in position, on penalty of added chastisement, but the knowledge that a stranger was present agonized her tender young modesty and made her resolve not to give the stocky blonde matron the satisfaction of knowing how painful the spanking was.
Nevertheless, by the time Matron Farwell had covered the young girl's bottom with a furious crimson hue as the result of two complete "tours" up and down the trembling, contracting, twitching globes, Dorothy began to find the burning pain intolerable. Tears ran down her cheeks; she raised her head, turning her distraught face back to plead for pardon, while sobs and choking gasps were interspersed with her timid plaints: "Ohhh --- pl--- please, Ma'am, oh it hurts -- oh, please, I'll be good --- Oww! I didn't mean to be naughty, truly I didn't -Aiii -- oh, Ma'am, please let me off just this once -- it hurts me so -- Arrr! I'll be good, oh please not so hard, please!"
But it was not until Matron Farwell had thrice sent her practiced and vigorous hand up and down the wriggling youngster's naked seat that she at last stopped, panting and perspiring with exertion. Dorothy lay sobbing across her lap, uncontrollably shaken by tremors which made the brightly flaming cheeks of her bottom quake and undulate and contract ... maneuvers which Beverly Tilson watched with rapidly pounding pulses and sensual excitement. That was the way Darlene was going to be punished once she got her in here! This and much, much more. And she would come to watch Darlene being spanked. The sly minx was such a goody-goody -- just wait till she had to take down her bloomers and turn up her bare seat for a smacking with everybody watching! Beverly Tilson could hardly wait for that moment to arrive. But meanwhile, she compensated by substituting the unfortunate young redhead in Darlene's place. And it was eminently satisfactory.
After a few moments, during which the unhappy girl was allowed to sob to her heart's content, Miss Sinclair now decreed: "Very well, Dorothy, it's time for the second part of your punish ment, you know. Get up and thank Matron Farwell for spanking you so well. Then you will go place yourself over the stool so that Matron Ellis may give you the rest o£ your spanking."
Slowly, her shoulders still shaking with sobs and tears rivuleting down her contorted, flushed cheeks, the weeping young redhead raised herself off Matron Farwell's ample lap. Her little hands stealthily sneaked behind her with agitated and feverish haste her flaming bare bottom as she tearfully stammered, "Th --Thank y --- you, M -- Matron F -- Farwell, for -- sp -- spanking me."
The stout blonde matron chuckled coarsely. "You're welcome, I'm sure. Now get over to the stool and don't keep Matron Ellis waiting, or you'll smart for it!"
"N -- no, Ma'am, I -- I'm going," Dorothy sniffled. She hobbled slowly over to the iron footstool where Matron Ellis stood waiting for her. Again she hesitated, then with a despairing sob, resignedly bent herself down over the padded top. She gasped again with discomfort, for the rough leather which surfaced the iron footstool had been decorated with patches of coarse, bristly horsehair sewn over it, which scratched her tender skin.
The gray-haired matron swiftly went in front of the girl, squatted down and, seizing one of Dorothy's slender wrists, buckled a thin but strong leather strap round it; the other end of the strap was attached to the base of one of the iron legs. A moment later, on the other wrist was similarly attached. Dorothy began to sob more loudly now, for this pinioning signified to her the increasing severity of the second part of her spanking.
Matron Ellis had already procured the instrument of chastisement. It was a wellworn leather sole, black and shining. That sheen was not from polish, but from its constant application to the firm bare flesh of the bottoms of the inmates of the reformatory.
Moving to Dorothy's left, Matron Ellis placed her left palm upon the small of the girl's shivering back, lightly tapped the front part of the sole across the pouting inner edges of both huddling buttocks, and glanced back at the superintendent for authorization to begin. Miss Sinclair said aloud, "Count twenty, Dorothy. And remember, any that you don't count will be extras. Are you ready?"
A long shudder rippled through the draped-over half-nude body of the hed-haired culprit, and a tearfully stammered "Y -Yes, Ma'am, only -- pl -- please not too hard, please, Ma'am!" was heard. Miss Sinclair glanced at her guest; Beverly Tilson was quivering with impatience, her bosom rising and falling quickly now. Once again, she beheld Darlene tied over this very stool, her tender young virginal flesh exposed in this same shameful way, about to receive the burning kisses of the leather sole after her seat had been well warmed by a preparatory handspanking.
The superintendent slowly raised her right hand. Matron Ellis nodded, her thin lips tightening with visible satisfaction, and her left palm pressed down vigorously on the small of the girl's bar back. The sole rose in her other hand, hovered an instant over the trembling, reddened bare bottom, then swept down with a thunderous crack! It danced horizontally across the top of the right buttock, concentrating most of its sting towards the outer edge of the trembling hemisphere. A shrill cry of pain broke from the unhappy sufferer: "Owww!! Oh, one! Oh, how it hurts me! I'll be good, I'll never do it again, Ma'am!"
At the moment of impact, Dorothy's hips lunged violently from side to side, and her strapped wrists tugged futilely at their bonds. Violent rippling tremors ran up and down her grace fully slender thighs, and now her soft sobbing resumed as Matron Ellis prepared for the next spank. It was delivered after a prolonged pause, during which the unfortunate girl raised her head, and it whacked crisply against the outer edge of the top of her other bottom-cheek, drawing a new plaintive wail which prefaced the count of "Two! Oh, pl -- please!"
By the time ten spanks had been administered, five to each buttock and each applied horizontally to the individual globe, Dorothy was twisting and jerking violently over her punishment stool, and imploring pardon, though she did not forget to count.
Matron Ellis allowed from fifteen to twenty seconds between strokes of the polished leather sole; at the halfway mark, she paused a full minute to let Dorothy exhale her sobs and plaints, then smartly tapped the base of the girl's bottom and muttered dryly, "Get ready for the rest now, you little vixen!" Then stepping slightly forward along Dorothy's left side, her left forefinger stabbing down into the small of the girl's quivering back, she resumed the spanking. This time, however, the sole bit vertically into the angrily reddened hemisphere, resuming again on the right cheek; fifteen seconds later, the sole flattened down the middle of the left bottom-globe; and under this new pattern of chastisement, Dorothy frantically jerked and twisted herself, crying out shrilly, "Aaahh:: Owww ooohh!! Oh, have pity, please don't spank me any more, I'll be so good, please, Ma'am!"
Her calling out of the count was drowned by her sobs and tears, and the superintendent, leaning forward, cautioned her: "You must call out each spank clearly, Dorothy, you know, or else it won't be accepted and you will just receive an extra. You have eight more with the sole. Proceed, Matron Ellis."
And once again, the bony gray-haired matron raised the leather sole and brought it down in a flashing arc to dance with a sonorous whack against the angrily and darkeningly colored right buttock of her suffering young patient. The last four spanks were inflicted diagonally, two over the tops of the naked young hips and angling downward towards the shadowy crease which separated the globes, the other two over the base of each buttock. Poor little Dorothy's screams and sobs had increased in volume by this time, and her counting out of the strokes was almost lost amid the clamor of her wails and cries of pain.
Matron Ellis dropped the sole onto the floor and walked slowly over to the panoply on the wall, reached out to take down the leather tawse. It was a strap about twenty-six inches in length, doubly thick at the first four inches of one end to serve as handle; at the last six inches of its gleaming black length, it was cut down the middle so that it resembled two "fingers" whose burning bite and sting was indeed formidable. Dorothy turned her face to the right to follow the matron's movement, and when she saw her take down the fearsome tawse, she implored hysterically: "Oh, Ma'am, please not the tawse.1 Oh please, please give me double with the sole, but let me off the tawse! I can't bear it, Ma'am, my poor seat's raw already, oh please, Ma'am!"
Beverly Tilson glanced at her new friend, Miss Sinclair, who returned the look with an imperious smile as she replied, "You know very well, Dorothy, that I never go back on my word. You have earned the tawse, and you shall have it. If it hurts you, remember that you brought it on yourself with your naughtiness. You may have two minutes, no more, before you receive it. Thank me for my leniency."
Beverly Tilson could hardly believe her ears. Here, an unruly girl was subjugated and humbled. She was trained in humility to accept punishment and to endure every shading of humiliation and suspense and servility. She could have dreams of nothing better for her niece, and she counted it as the luckiest thing in the world that she had chanced to visit the Corduva Girls' Reformatory. For she heard poor little Dorothy tearfully stammer out her thanks for this "leniency" which had as its effect only the torturing prolongation of her already severe ordeal.
Beverly Tilson was trembling with excitement. Her eyes devoured the flaming hillocks of Dorothy's well-spanked bare bottom, watching the girl's frantic squirmings and wrigglings over the stool. The scrately horsehair surfacing its top rasped cruelly against her bared lower waist, adding to her torment, and her sobs and whimpering plaints continued, all the while Miss Sinclair studied her tiny Swiss wristwatch, counting the seconds silently, while the bony, gray-haired matron stood at the girl's left, facing her superintendent to await the latter's signal to resume the final part of Dorothy's spanking.
In a gently benign tone, Miss Sinclair suddenly said, "All right, Dorothy, time's up. Nine on the bottom, the last three on the thighs. I shall let you off counting, if you promise never to be impertinent and insubordinate again. The next time, it will be a good deal more, you know."
"Y -- yes -- M -- Ma'am -- oh -- ohh, please, Ma'am, don't let her sp -- spank me too h -- hard with that awful st -- strap -- please, Ma'am, my seat's so terribly sore already, Ma'am, I won't ever cause trouble again, I promise, I --AHRRR; OHH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS ME S0: OH LET ME OFF ANY MORE, MA'AM, FOR PITY'S SAKE, I'LL BE SO GOOD!"
Dorothy's poignant supplication was interrupted as Miss Sinclair having nodded, Matron Ellis turned back to her victim, stepped slightly more to the left, raised the tawse, and applied it with a whistling impact straight across the broadest curves of the young girl's already furiously inflamed bare bottom. The tips of the two "fingers" clacked round to bite against the tender regions of the loins, and a shrill, raucous lament was immediately torn from Dorothy. Her bottom jerked wildly under the tawse first malevolent, noisily smacking kiss, and her thighs clenched, then opened convulsively, while a violent shuddering spasm passed along those lovely lithe columns on up through the projected, discolored cheeks of her naked seat.
"That's one," said Matron Farwell, a cold smile on her lips and a spiteful glitter in her narrowed eyes.
The coppery-haired culprit writhed over the stool, her slim fingers feverishly shifting back and forth along the rungs of her altar of atonement, her hips continuing to jerk and weave and twist from side to side. Miss Sinclair leaned over to Beverly Tilson to whisper, "Sometimes, when they're very rebellious, we place a strap over the small of their backs so they can't move about so much and escape the spanks. But I think you'll agree that, judging from the freedom Dorothy has to move about, she is feeling her spanking for being so naughty."
"Oh, yes," breathed Darlene's spellbound aunt. For her blazing eyes still substituted her niece's luscious young body for Dorothy's over that grim spanking stool.
Matron Ellis wasn't in any hurry to end poor Dorothy's martyrdom. A grim smile on her thin lips, she let the tawse dangle from her right hand while she watched the girl's pathetic efforts to find an easier resting place over the martyrizing stool, and it was a full minute before she again drew back her arm.
Then instantly, the leather band again swept furiously across the plump summits, just an inch below the superimposed, angry broad red band left by the first stroke.
"OUOOOHHHAHRRRR.' OHH LORDIE, OH IT HURTS, OH MERCY, MA'AM, OH, PLEASE, MISS SINCLAIR, LET ME OFF ANY MORE, I WON'T EVER BE NAUGHTY AGAIN:" Dorothy shrieked, tugging at her strapped wrists and ankles, while her naked hips plunged and rolled and jerked in the most vehement and uncontrollable of spasms. Her tear contorted face was turned back to the left as she strove to catch the eye of the superintendent, while the other matron counted out "Two!"
"Isn't there a danger, Miss Sinclair," Beverly Tilson was whisperingly wondering, "of seriously injuring the poor girl with such a lengthy chastisement? Her bottom must be dreadfully sore by now."
"Oh, it is, it assuredly is, dear Mrs. Tilson," the superintendent beamed, without taking her eyes from the sobbing, writhing culprit. "But have no fear, Matron Ellis, as well as her associate there who is counting, is an expert in administering necessary corrections. The skin won't be broken, though of course Dorothy will be very tender there for at least a week. It is a good lesson, because it lingers and reminds the naughty girl not to recommence her misconduct. And though she is quite young, the reformatory physician, Dr. Leona Morton, assures me that she is quite able to bear it without drastic aftereffects."
While this conversation was going on, Matron Ellis now delivered the third spank of the leather tawse, which clung viciously to the lower summits of Dorothy's upreared bottom cheeks and sent the two strips whisking round to nip at still tenderer areas of her sensitive young flesh.
"OHHAHRRRRREEEEEEE;; OHH DON'T! OH PLEASE HAVE HER STOP, MISS SINCLAIR! I CAN'T STAND AMY MORE ON MY POOR SEAT.' OH DO HAVE MERCH AND LET ME OFF, I WON'T EVER BE NAUGHTY, NOT EVER; OH MY SEAT'S TORN AND RAW, OHH PLEASE, MA'AM, PLEASE;" the angonized penitent screamed as her hips violently twisted and shook as if to disperse the searing heat that by now must be suffusing her woefully striped and discolored bare behind.
The convulsive tremors that flexed through her delightfully slim thighs and calves spoke of the furious attack against her tender young nervous system. And the contrast between the dark, red, swollen contours of her charmingly ample young bottom with the smooth warm tawny skin of her thighs and lower back was hypnotically fascinating for Darlene's aunt, leaning forward, her bosom panting with excitement, as she followed every facet of this the first infliction of corporal punishment she had ever witnessed.
Matron Ellis paused even longer this time, while Dorothy writhed over the footstool, poignantly sobbing and imploring pardon. The fourth spank, wrapping round the base of both huddling naked bottom-globes and drawing an hysterical outburst of babbled pleas for mercy, made poor Dorothy arch and strain her legs so violently that the clattering of the stool's iron legs was heard.
The fifth spank followed with only a ten-second pause, this time smacking over the tops of the girl's upreared naked hips, and seemed to agonize the penitent even more, judging from her wildly sobbing shriek for pardon and the frenzied wrenching of her slim little wrists against their fettering straps.
Now the executioner let her weeping, shuddering, helpless victim wait for an interminably long time before resuming the dustigation. In vain Dorothy pleaded with the superintendent to spare her any more, avowing she had been sufficiently punished to realize her misdeeds and pledging the most impeccable behaviour in the future. Miss Sinclair, smilingly glancing at her raptly intent guest, nodded -- and for the sixth time, after what was over two minutes of agonized suspense for the unfortunate youngster, the tawse intoned its sinister, whistling-smacking song over the top of the naked bottom, a little lower down from the previous darkening red band which the leather implement had painted over flesh already furiously tinted from hand and sole. This time Dorothy's cry was long and wordless, rising in pitch to testify to her intolerable suffering, while her bottom lunged and twisted and contracted in the most abandoned way.
The seventh spank took a minute's pause, throughout which Dorothy, all courage and resistance fled, continued to sob and beg for a remission of her sentence. It was diagonally admin istered, the tips of the strap biting home over the outer edge of the girl's right hip and wedding the broad band of the tawse down over the plumpening super summit of the right bottom-globe on over the shadowy groove and against the firm, rounded innercurving are of the left buttock where it met that intimate furrow.
"OHHH AHRRR! OHH MA'AM, MA'AM, I CAN'T STAND IT ANY MORE, I CAN'T, I CAN'T; OH HAVE HER STOP, OH PLEEEEEEASE, MA'AM.' I'M DYING, OH I'M DYING! OH IT HURTS SO BAD! OHH STOP;" Dorothy screamed raucously as her body lunged and jerked convulsively over the stool.
"Be brave, dear, and realize that this is for your own good," Miss Sinclair speciously interposed. "Two more on your naughty bottom, Dorothy, then three on the thighs and it will be over. You may proceed, Matron."
"OHH N00; NOO, OH NOT ANY MORE ON MY SORE RAW SEAT, OH PLEASE, I CAN'T -- EEEEYAHRRRROWW; OH I'M DYING; OHH STOP, STOP, OH HAVE MERCY, I'M GOING TO DIE, IT HURTS SO AWFULLY.'"
Once again poor Dorothy's wailing lamentation was harshly interrupted by the hissing music, then the clacking, biting fury of the tawse as, this time, stepping over to the writhing young girl's right, Matron Ellis directed the leather discipline diagonally over the violently livid backside, the tips of the tawse pinching the top of the left cheek and clinging the length of the leather band down across the huddling, jerking, shuddering round globes.
"That's eight," said Matron Farwell, and from her tone it was obvious that she was reluctant to see the punishment near its finish.
Dissolved in tears, hardly able to speak coherently from the fiery suffering that attacked her swollen posterior, Dorothy could only jerk at her straps and groan and whimper as her executioner, stepping back a little more and to the right, directed the ninth and final spank of the tawse from left to right in a broadly sweeping diagonal stroke under which both hemispheres flattened, then danced in an endless choreography of pain. The girl's prolonged, risingly shrill shriek attested to the severity of the spank, and she lay shuddering over the stool, abandoning herself, while the muscles of her lividly splotched and streaked naked bottom took over in their own uncontrollable "dance" which is infallibly the evidence of a thorough castigation.
Once again Dorothy was given a two-minute respite. She wept without cease, arching and twisting herself restlessly in a futile attempt to alleviate the scorching pangs that swept through every cranny of her out-thrust, upreared bare buttocks. Not an inch of untouched smooth tawny skin remained. Yet even Beverly Tilson,in her role as amateur, could see that no where was the skin broken.
At the end of the two minutes, Matron Farwell approached the whimpering culprit, squatted down, and, tugging down the elastic garters which held Dorothy's black woolen stockings up at midthigh, swiftly rolled the hose down to the girl's ankles, exposing not only her charmingly graceful thighs but also the sinuously sleek contours of her attractively proportioned calves. Dorothy began to weep again, louder than ever at this ominous preparation, and the superintendent rebuked her: "Stop your silly crying, girl! You know you've deserved this. And before our distinguished guest, to make such a fuss over a spanking! I've half a mind to let Matron Ellis give you a half-dozen over your thighs instead of the three. Now show your docility by accepting the rest of your spanking without any more of this screeching, which deafens our ears! Go ahead, Matron!"
Aware even through the feverish pain that relentlessly besieged her flesh and nerves of the danger she ran in offending the superintendent, poor little Dorothy made an heroic effort to compress her lips, but she could not control the shuddering flexions that assailed her hips and thighs.
Nor, indeed, the woebegone screams of real suffering when, slowly, almost a minute apart, the leather tawse dashed across the smooth, gentle rondures of her quaking thighs, thrice visiting those hitherto untouched regions with instantly darkening broad weals.
At last it was over. Matron Farwell unstrapped the weeping girl's wrists and ankles after first pulling back the stockings and snapping the garters into place. As she did so, purposely letting the elastic bands snap loudly and drawing new sobs from the halfswooning young culprit, she jibed, "Now maybe next time you won't sass your betters, Dorothy!"
Once the girl's ankles were freed, Matron Ellis herself deigned to draw back up the gray cotton bloomers with their elastic-reenforced legs and waistband, while Dorothy continued to cry histerically, for even the restoration of the garment of modesty was an anguish for her, swollen and throbbing with fiery pain as her bottom was. Then the two women helped her to her feet and led her, head bowed, stumbling, whimpering, out of the punishment chamber.
Superintendent Monica Sinclair rose, turned to her attractive guest. "You realize, Mrs. Tilson, that I permitted you to watch this in the strictest confidence," she remarked. "It's only because you've expressed yourself so sympathetically in the cause of rehabilitation o£ naughty girls."
"Oh, thank you, Miss Sinclair," Beverly Tilson's voice shook with emotion, and her face was flushed. "I shan't forget what I saw. Thank you for letting me watch. I am convinced now what steps I must take to get my poor misguided niece back onto the path of obedience and docility."
"Yes, it's the only sure way, I'm sure, Mrs. Tilson. I do hope your niece will benefit from your inspiring guidance, and that I shall not have occasion to see her here."
Beverly Tilson shook her head, uttering a sigh of feigned doubt. "I sometimes wonder, dear Miss Sinclair, if it isn't too late now for Darlene to be restored to ladylike conduct. I'm terribly afraid she is too steeped in the errors of her headstrong ways for me to hope to effect rehabilitation by myself."
A significant pause ensued, and both women eyed each other. What the superintendent read in Darlene's aunt's eyes made her smile, then, and say softly, "I do hope you are wrong, Mrs. Tilson. But you may be sure, if your niece should by any chance come under my supervision, we here at Corduva can do all that is necessary to make rehabilitation quite realizable."
Gregory Tilson chuckled. "I'm no more anxious to be bothered with the upbringing of a juvenile than you, Beverly my dear," he replied, "but one doesn't shunt off an unwanted rela tive by sending her to a reformatory without cause. And Darlene is hardly the type that belongs in a place like that. It's for young criminals and vagrants and unreliable juveniles."
"Mark my words, Gregory, Darlene has pulled the wool over both our eyes. I'm certain of it. You and I mistake her sneakiness for sweetness and docility. If you have proof that she is utterly reprehensible, I trust you won't stand in the way of whatever consequences she brings on herself."
"Of course not, if she deserves it. But I'm reasonably sure there'll be no such occurrence. She's lonely and sensitive and shy, that's all. And she doesn't warm to either of us, though I can't blame her, having lost her parents as she's done."
Beverly Tilson didn't pursue the conversation. She was satisfied that her husband wouldn't put up any opposition to the furtherance of her plan, once he was given proof that Darlene Adams was incorrigible and in need of stronger discipline than her own aunt and uncle could mete out to her.
A week passed, and Beverly Tilson lost her trusted maid, the girl coming to her only a day after the visit to the reformatory with the news that she had suddenly got engaged and was going to be married.
This was an unforeseen delay to Beverly Tilson's scheme, but luck smiled on her by the end of the week. She had applied to a local employment agency to send her a replacement, and on Saturday a saucy-faced, green-eyes brunette of medium height, with jet black hair in a piquant ponytail, rang the bell of the Tilson home.
Gregory Tilson was out of town on business, and Darlene had gone to the movies. Beverly Tilson ushered the girl into the living room and began to interview her.
Her name was Kitty Warren; she was twenty-one, had worked as a maid in two other homes for six months each, and before that for two years as a clerk in a local department store. Her references were, Beverly Tilson noted, not of the best; apparently she had been discharged from her last position as a maid under the cloud of mistreating the twelve-year-old daughter of her employer by slapping her harshly. Beverly drew Kitty out on the subject, for this defect which would normally have caused her to reject the applicant was actually a virtue in her present scheme of things.
Kitty flushed, shifted in the armchair. "I know I oughtn't to have slapped Jenifer, Ma'am, but the little brat was sticking her tongue out at me and getting just out of hand. What I really ught to have done was to turn her over and paddle her hind end for her, that's what. you ask me, Ma'am, too many brats don't know what a licking is, but it would sure straighten them out if they ever got a good one."
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Kitty," Beverly Tilson mused, with an appraising glance at the brunette. She had a turned-up nose, ripe small mouth, and warm olive skin, and the knowing look in her green eyes suggested that she wasn't born yesterday.
"I may give you a chance, Kitty. If you're trustworthy, you'll earn more than I'm going to start you off with. I want you particularly to watch my niece Darlene -- she's out right now, but she's a very irritating child and needs discipline. I may have to send her to a private school or even a juvenile home if she doesn't mend her ways."
"I see, Ma'am. I guess she never got spanked either, eh?"
"No." Beverly Tilson frowned and was silent for a moment. Then she looked direct at the saucy brunette. "Were you, Kitty?'
"Oh, Lord love you, Ma'am, many's the time my dad took my panties down and whaled sense into me. Me and my three sisters. Mom did it too, till she died three years ago. We got kept in line but good. And old as I am, Ma'am, even today, Dad'd give me the over-the-lap treatment, pull up and pull down and spank if he cought me doing something I oughtn't to."
Beverly Tilson trembled with ill concealed excitement. Kitty had all the qualifications she sought in a conspiratorial id to foment her plot against unsuspecting Darlene Adams. But what was more, the saucy brunette's admission of her acquaintance with corporal punishment titillated the mature woman's burning desire to inflict it. The scene at the reformatory had haunted her, till it was all she could do to refrain from experimenting on her niece, but she couldn't very well without cause, and so far Darlene hadn't given her a valid reason. And to punish capriciously ran the risk of having even her husband step in and uphold Darlene's innocence. No, it had to be done her way, so that even Gregory wouldn't object to Darlene's incarceration at Corduva. And Kitty was going to be the catalytic agent.
"You know, Kitty," she said slowly and meaningfully, eyeing the attractive young brunette, "I'm very demanding of my maids. I want a good deal of service, but I'm willing to pay well for it."
"Yes, Ma'am?" Kitty cocked her head and looked at her prospective employer, a cajoling smile on her luscious mouth.
"If you were naughty, Kitty, seeing that you've been spanked at home, I might feel that keeping up the treatment would be in order here," she ventured.
Kitty giggled, squirmed in her seat. "I guess if I had it coming, I couldn't very well stop you, Ma'am. ause my dad would lick the tar out of me if I got fired from a job. He did my last two ones, that's a fact, even though I wasn't all to blame, honest, Ma'am."
"I believe you, my dear."
"And anyway," Kitty winked, "you couldn't spank nearly so hard as Did does when he's mad, I bet."
Beverly Tilson's pulses began to pound at the impudently teasing way Kitty was looking at her, saying a thing like that.
Feigning a joking little laugh, she countered, "You might be quite wrong, Kitty. Don't try to find out."
"Maybe I better had, just in case I'm biting off more than I can chew, so to speak," was Kitty's brazen answer, and there wasn't any mistaking her meaning. Beverly Tilson flushed, trying hard to maintain an even level in her voice as she answered, "If that means you want a spanking right now to find out whether you can take it and work for me, I've no objections to giving you one, my dear."
"Okay, Ma'am, why not? You know something? Sometimes I et restless and like with spring fever. And whenever Dad spanks my bottom, it seems to drive all the mischief out of me. Maybe that's what I do need right now, at that."
So saying, she got up and walked over to the couch where Beverly Tilson sat, and to Darlene's aunt's astonishment, draped herself passively over her lap. Then, pillowing her head on her folded arms and turning her provocatively saucy face back towards her new employer, she gigglingly vouchsafed: "Okay, I'm ready."
Hesitantly, Beverly Tilson circled her left arm round the girl's supple waist. Kitty's blue cotton dress clung enchantingly to her voluptuous figure, shaping out plump,-closely set buttocks and round firm thighs under the thin skirt. As she tightened her rm, Kitty squirmed invitingly. Beverly Tilson raised her right hand and applied a tentative, light spank on one of the plump cheeks, startled at the springy resilience of the flesh beneath the skirt.
"Oh my goodness, aren't you going to pull up and pull down the way Dad does? He says a spanking's no good unless it's on the bare," Kitty impertinently remarked, glancing round, her yes sparkling and her lips parted in the most impish of moues.
"All right, young lady," Beverly Tilson exclaimed. "Remember, you asked for it." With this carte blanche she hesitated no longer. Trussing up the skirt and the white silk halfslip beneath, she uncovered a magnificent, ripe, tightly spaced pair of buttocks snugly veiled in pink silk suspants, whose tiny tabs hooked onto the tops of Kitty's sheer off-black nylons.
It was an ecstatic if fumbling moment for Darlene's aunt as she unfastened the tabs, then dragged down the thin sheath to Kitty's round full thighs, baring the most impudently upturned, spacious bottom she had ever seen, its satiny skin a warm rich olive sheen.
Kitty tightened her muscles in a sign of pretended apprehension, and Darlene's aunt shivered with anticipation -- the same kind she had experienced in the punishment room at Corduva. But this time, the exhilarating sensation of being herself the active participant in the humiliating chastisement -- for, though she was quite aware that Kitty was complacently play acting, she again could mentally visualize her own niece lying exactly where itty was now ready for spanking -- was well-nigh intoxicating.
"Now I'm going to make sure you're a good maid and obey your mistress, Kitty," she promised, and then her right hand fell with an authoritative smack on the left bottom summit. The bright pink outline of her palm instantly glowed on the soft olive globe and Kitty wriggled deliciously, her eyes widening. It was exquisitely thrilling!
Thus enheartened, Beverly Tilson began to spank with growing confidence and enthusiasm. Alternating on the bare ripe hillocks of Kitty Warren's posterior, which soon began to redden and to squirm just as Dorothy's had, inspired by Kitty's little squeals and gasps as her ardor and the vigor of the slaps increased, Beverly Tilson warmed to this wonderfully rewarding, novel game. She gave Kitty's plump olive sheened bare bottom at least fifty hard stinging slaps, and the fiery shade imparted was hugely satisfying. So were Kitty's yipes and "Ooohs!" and "Ahhs!" and "Ouch, that hurt!" and her dancing, weaving gyrations towards the end of the spanking.
When it was over, Beverly Tilson was out of breath and trembling with excitement. She herself pulled up Kitty's suspants and resecured the stocking tabs, then drew down the skirt and half slip. "Now maybe you'll be a good girl in my service," she admonished. Kitty got up, ruefully rubbing her bottom, tears misting her dilated eyes. "You better believe it, Ma'am," she giggled. "Ouch, you spank pretty good. It's a wonder you don't teach your niece manners the same way."
"You're going to help me, dear. Now, can you move in with us this very afternoon?" Beverly Tilson purred. She had found her conspiratorial aid at last.
CHAPTER ONE
Darlene Adams missed her parents a great deal. They had both been killed in an automobile accident on the freeway two years ago, at which time her mother's sister had taken custody of her. Aunt Beverly was just the opposite from Darlene's mother so far as temperament and looks were concerned. Where Darlene's mother had been blonde, gentle of features and voice, Beverly Tilson was tall, svelte, blackhaired, with arrogant features and a clipped, insolent tone of voice. She was ten years older than Darlene's mother and she had secretly resented the fact that Clark Adams had preferred her younger sister, Ruth, to herself. She had married Gregory Tilson about ten years after Darlene's birth, but she had never forgiven her sister for "stealing" her true love from her. Gregory Tilson was a successful real estate broker in his mid-fifties, practical and unimaginative. Beverly had married him for security and no other reason. They had been childless, for Beverly had no desire to have children of her own.
This resentment of Darlene's mother became a shadow which darkened the young girl's life, unsuspecting though she was of its real motivation. There was another reason too. Beverly Tilson loved fine clothes and jewelry, dining at fashionable restaurants and being seen at the theater. Though her husband was wealthy, he was also something of a miser so far as extravagances were concerned, which is what he termed her penchants for finery and costly entertainment.
Darlene's father had been an insurance salesman, not particularly successful, but he had left a policy for his daughter's college education and living expenses in the event of his untimely death. The policy was in the amount of $50,000, and his will stipulated that the money was to be kept in trust until Darlene turned twenty-one. Beverly Tilson was named the executrix of her brother-in-law's estate, and as such she had control of the money. Darlene knew nothing about this policy nor the provisions of her father's will, and Beverly Tilson had no intention of telling her. During the two years which the lovely young girl spent in the Tilson house on Courtland Boulevard, her aunt showed no affection for her whatsoever. And by now she had conceived a plan to rid herself of her niece and at the same time take over Darlene's inheritance to use for her own pleasures. I£ the girl were sent to a reformatory or a juvenile home for misdemeanors or crimes, she would continue to hold the money in trust. She could very easily arrange with a most unscrupulous lawyer friend of hers, one Brand Oliver by name, to spend a good deal of money in legal defense of her niece and charge it off to the estate. Oliver would split the difference with her. She had already approached him on the subject and found him most amenable to her suggestion.
The Tilsons lived in Markheim, a small town about 175 miles northwest of Los Angeles. About 50 miles away, on the outskirts of a little town of Corduva, there was a girls' reformatory. Beverly Tilson had driven by it once when she had made a leisurely automobile trip to the big city, and her seeing it gave her the ingredients of the plot she was hatching against her lovely and unsuspecting niece.
The county court of Markheim was presided over by an elderly judge, the Honorable Donald Jackson. He was almost sixty-five and disgruntled over not having won higher judicial status so that he could hold court in one of the big cities at a much higher salary. He had a taste for fine French wines and first-edition books, hobbies which cost money. Beverly Tilson has already invited him to dinner at a swanky Los Angeles restaurant while he was in the City of the Angels during a conference of county officials. She had flattered his ego and proposed a hypothetical case whereby he could profit with no ones being the wiser. And she found that he could be corrupted by money. Ten thousand dollars, to be exact. It was well worth that much to be rid of Darlene, because then she would have the rest of the money minus the agreed on split with Brand Oliver.
Gregory Tilson, of course, knew nothing of this plot. However, he wasn't overly fond of children either, especially as he found he could have none of his own. So there was no real affection for Darlene in his heart, either, which made his wife's machinations that much more likely to succeed.
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CHAPTER TWO
Darlene Adams at sixteen had almost the beauty of a mature young woman. She was of medium height, with wavy dark brown hair and matching, widely spaced limpid dark brown eyes. Her face was a sensitive oval, with delicate Grecian nose whose sensuous wings quiveringly dilated in the most expressive and eloquent manner. She had a lovely ripe, tremulous mouth, highset cheekbones, and she wore harlequin glasses which made her look very sophisticated and piquant.
Her skin was an enviable warm creamy tint, and it enhanced a superbly voluptuous figure. Her full high-arching, round breasts were already straining at the bodice of the modestly cut dresses she wore, and her slim waist flared into breathtakingly rounded hips. Her calves and thighs were beautifully proportioned and delightfully curvacious. She had inherited the soft sweet voice of her mother, and she was shy and gentle by nature, as her mother had been. Needless to say, she had never known the ignominy of corporal chastisement. Her parents hadn't believed in it, and although Beverly Tilson many times would dearly have loved to turn her lovely niece over her lap and acquaint her with the humiliation and pain of a vengeful spanking, she had to date never once yielded to this sadistic impulse. Beverly Tilson was quite content with the scheme she had concocted for getting Darlene out of the way and taking over the girl's legacy. If Judge Jackson sentenced Darlene to serve in the Corduva Girls Reformatory, she knew very well that her niece would not take long to learn what corporal chastisement really was. For, once having determined her plan, she had already begun to put it into execution. She had paid a visit to the reformatory and met the superintendent, a stout, dour spinster in her mid-forties named Marion Sinclair. Marion Sinclair, twenty years ago, had had a similar experience of thwarted romance just as Beverly Tilson had. So after the imposing brunette had visited Miss Sinclair's office and stated that she was greatly interested in the rehabilitation of errant young girls and would like to know how Miss Sinclair disciplined and guided them to self-improvement, the reformatory superintendent had found in Darlene's aunt a kindred spirit.
Several further visits made the two women virtual friends, and after the fifth visit, Marion Sinclair unbent sufficiently to take Darlene's aunt on a very special and private tour of inspection of the reformatory.
"We have a certain leeway, Mrs. Tilson," the superintendent gushed as she led the haughty brunette matron down a narrow corridor in the basement of the main building where her own office was situated. "We don't stand any nonsense from any of our girls. As you know, Mrs. Tilson, we have about three hundred of the little baggages, ranging from thirteen to twenty-one. And no matter whether the girl happens to be the youngest or the oldest, she knows if she disobeys our rules, she gets a licking."
Beverly Tilson pretended great surprise at this welcome news. "You mean you actually spank them?" she inquired, making an effort to disguise her intense interest in the answer. The superintendent nodded with a beaming smile: "We certainly do, Mrs. Tilson. As a matter of fact, seeing that you are of such a sympathetic turn of mind and admire the work we're doing here, I thought you might like to see exactly how we do discipline them."
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"Why, yes, Miss Sinclair, I really would like to see that. You see, I have a niece at home who is a great problem to me. Her parents, alas, never took the trouble to bring her up prop erly, and they died some years ago so that I was saddled with the responsibility of her upbringing. I loved my sister very much, you understand, Miss Sinclair, and I've always hesitated to apply physical correction out of respect for my dear sister."
Marion Sinclair nodded. "The sentiment does you credit. There are so many girls like that, you know. They are pampered and spoiled by their folks, and then suddenly they don't have anybody to look after them and they run wild. But we don't let them do that here, you can be sure of that. This afternoon, we are going to see how Matron Ellis punishes a naughty girl who had the temerity to talk back to her in the dining room
last night. One thing I cannot abide is disrespect and Insubordination."
"You are so right, dear Miss Sinclair," purred Beverly Tilson. She could hardly conceal her impatience to watch the forthcoming spectacle. The superintendent led her to the end of the hall, put her finger to an electric buzzer and pressed it. In a moment, a bolt was drawn back and the door was swung inward. It was opened by a gray-haired, bony, stern-faced woman wearing a matron's uniform of short-sleeved blouse, black silk skirt, and a whistle hanging from z little gold chain around her neck. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," she greeted the superintendent with an unctuous smile. "We're just about ready to bring Doroth, down for punishment, and we were waiting for you."
"Thank you, Matron Ellis," the superintendent smiled. Then turning to Beverly Tilson, she said, "This Is a very dear friend of mine, Mrs. Tilson, who wishes to see something of our methods She has, she has just informed me, a most trying niece at home who has never learned what true discipline really is."
"I don't hope that we shall ever have her here, Mrs. Tilson the matron fawningly declared. "But if that should ever be the case, you may rest assured that we know how to handle trouble makers and disobedient girls. Miss Sinclair is such a fine superintendent, and she gives us matrons full responsibility for administering correction when we sincerely believe it is merited Won't you come in and sit down?"
Her heart beating more rapidly, and her eyes glowing with anticipation, Darlene's aunt stepped into the room. It was a wide chamber, windowless, and opposite the door through which she entered was a narrower door through which undoubtedly the culprit and her guard would soon appear. What interested Beverly Tilson most was the furnishing of this punishment room, for such it undoubtedly was. Along one wall, from a panoply of hooks,
Beverly Tilson saw an array of spanking instruments. There were wooden and leather paddles of varying shapes and sizes; an object that looked like a long handled bath brush with extremely stiff horsehair bristles; several English canes of malacca and rattan and even an English birch rod composed of about a dozen switches with ends that were tightly gathered and wrapped in a black cloth which furnished a handle; various kinds of leather straps, including the famous tawse with its doubly thick handle-end and its length ending in two separated strips six inches long, like fingers.
Near this wall, there was a low flat wooden bench. In the center of the room was a heavy iron footstool whose legs were set into the floor and whose top was padded with leather on whose outer surface scratchy horsehair had been affixed. There was also a heavy straight-backed chair, its legs also fixed into the floor so that the culprit's contortions and struggles could not topple it, with a series of buckling straps lying on the seat ready for use. There was also an upright round wooden post with a crossarm at the top, and at each end of the crossarm a heavy metal ring was affixed. At the end of one section of the wall nearest the door, there'were several comfortable, upholstered chairs, to one of which Miss Sinclair now gestured Darlene's aunt. "Please make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Tilson," she invited,"and we shall watch together an example of the kind of discipline which is given here to rebellious girls."
The two women sat down and waited. In a few minutes, the other door was opened, and Matron Ellis first appeared. Behind her, another matron followed, a blonde, coarse-faced middle-age woman who was stockily built and the short sleeves of whose uniform blouse disclosed powerful biceps. She had hold of the wrist of a frightened, very lovely red-haired girl who could have been more than fourteen, and who was evidently reluctant enter the punishment room, judging from the way she planted he feet on the floor and tried to tug back.
"Now, now, Dorthy," Miss Sinclair chided in a maternal to "don't add to the seriousness of your case by struggling again Matron Farwell. You know you must be punished for being so I dent and rude to Matron Ellis, and your only chance of lessen your punishment is if you accept it humbly and promise never repeat your serious offense again."
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The girl had already begun to sniffle with justifiable apprehension, but she let the stout blonde matron lead her to wards the center of the room. The matron seated herself on t: straight-backed chair, while Dorothy remained standing, her h; clasped, her fingers twisting restlessly, a look of anguish o: her pert face. She was slim, of medium height, but under the drab reformatory costume of a black, long-sleeved blouse and black skirt which descended to the middle of her calves, rough black woolen stockings and heavy work shoes, it was evident t: her hips and bosom were already startlingly mature. Her face heartshaped and freckled, with a charming tawny complexion th accentuated them. She had a high, spacious forehead, and her coppery red hair was shaped in helmet style, framing her face and with a low fringe along the middle of her forehead which added to the piquancy of her features. Her eyes were graygreen, widely spaced between the bridge of a saucy, snub nose and her ripe sulky, curving mouth and firm defiant little chin betrayed the rebellious streak of her temperament which had obviously brought her to the punishment room.
The two matrons waited, looking at the superintendent for their orders, both quivering with impatience to proceed. Beverly Tilson's nostrils dilated and her eyes glowed with that same eagerness. She was seeing in this frightened though still somewhat sulkily defiant redhead her own niece . . . and the vision was'entrancing.
"This isn't the first time you've been down here, is it, Dorothy?" Miss Sinclair demanded in a deceivingly gentle voice. Dorothy shook her head, bit her lips, staring fixedly at the floor.
"When I speak to you, Dorothy, I expect an answer," Miss Sinclair commented without raising her voice. She eyed the tall bony matron. "See that she has an extra half-dozen for that, Matron Ellis."
"Very good, Ma'am."
"This is actually your third time in eighteen months, Dorothy. And you know our rules. For every succeeding time that you are brought down here, your punishment is increased. Let me see, Matron Ellis. How was she disciplined the last time?"
"The usual handspanking, Ma'am, then a dozen with the oval pinewood paddle. And then a half-dozen with the strap."
"Very well. Dorothy, for your own good and because we must maintain discipline here and establish respect for those in authority over you and your companions, you are going to receive first the customary handspanking to prepare your bottom for the rest of the punishment. Matron Ellis, after Matron Farwell has given Dorothy her spanking, you will place her over the punishment stool and apply twenty strokes of the leather sole, and then after a suitable pause, during which time I sincerely trust she will repent her insubordination, you will give her half a dozen with the tawse."
"Yes, Ma'am," the bony, gray-haired matron nodded. "And then there is the extra you just sentenced her to, Ma'am."
"Oh, yes, Matron Ellis. Thank you for reminding me. That will be a dozen with the tawse, the last three over her thighs. You may proceed."
During the pronouncement of her sentence, the young girl slowly raised her anguished face, her eyes widening in terror at the conclusion of it. Then sinking down on her knees and wringing her hands, she tearfully burst, "Oh, please, Ma'am, not so much; I didn't mean to be rude, truly I didn't! Not with the tawse on the bare, please! Please let me off the tawse, this one time, Ma'am!"
The superintendent smiled with a hypocritical tenderness. "Now, Dorothy, you know very well that once a sentence is issued, it must be carried out. If you hadn't disobeyed and acted th way you did, you wouldn't be receiving this, you understand. you know also that you must submit, don't you? Otherwise, I be regretfully forced to add to your punishment. You don't w to do that, do you?"
Her shoulders shaking with convulsive, stifled sobs, the pretty redhead shook her head and then slowly, miserably rose her feet.
Beverly Tilson leaned toward the superintendent to whisp "Apparently, Miss Sinclair, these girls are instructed how to have during punishment?"
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Tilson. From the very first day they are carcerated here, they are given a set of our rules to memoriz The first time even that any one of them has occasion to be s to the punishment room, she is expected to prepare herself. Failure to do so always increases the chastisement. We find a very effective means of curbing rebellion. Now Dorothy, al she is only 14 1/2, has a tendency to argue and discuss like girl nearly 20, but even she knows how severely she would be punished if she were now to discuss and argue any further. You' see." With this the superintendent sat back, folding her arm across her bosom, a beatific smile on her face. Then, to the trembling culprit, she cooed: "You may prepare for punishment Dorothy."
CHAPTER THREE
Beverly Tilson leaned forward intently, her eyes fixed on the trembling coppery-haired young girl who had just been ordered to prepare herself for what was to be a prolonged and humiliating as well as painful punishment. In her mind's eye she was visualizing her own niece, Darlene. She strove to drink in, therefore, each tiny nuance of Dorothy's ordeal so that she might anticipate Darlene's eventual correction. She knew now that she could obtain both her financial goal and her revenge for having been spited in love all those long years ago by delivering her innocent unsuspecting niece up to the efficient and stern hands of the women who ran this reformatory for girls.
Dorothy hesitated for an instant, glancing at Darlene's aunt. Her lovely tawny skin reddened with shame at the knowledge that a visitor who had nothing to do with the reformatory was about to see her chastisement. Miss Sinclair gave Darlene's aunt a quick, appreciative glance, and then sternly commanded: "Never mind my guest, Dorothy. You heard the order. Prepare yourself, unless you want me to have the matrons add to your punishment!"
"Oh, no, Miss Sinclair, please, I -- I'm going to do it right -- right away!" the pretty red-haired youngster quavered in a scared voice. She reached behind her and with trembling fingers unfastened the coarse black woolen skirt, let it drop about her ankles, then hastily picked it up, and glanced about helplessly. The superintendent interposed: "For this once, Dorothy, you may leave it on the floor. Now hurry. I am becoming very vexed with you, my girl!"
The unfortunate culprit began to tremble, her face flushing hotly at this menacing rebuke. Beverly Tilson saw that Dorothy was wearing elastic garters to hold up the black woolen stockings which clambered halfway up her slender but delightfully firm and well-proportioned thighs. Now that the skirt was removed, she could see that the girl had a more ample posterior than she would have guessed. It was snugly shaped out in a pair of dark gray cotton bloomers, with elastic at the waistband and at the legs, which reached almost to the tops o£ her stockings, leaving a soft sheened inch of quivering tawny bare skin visible. Dorothy bit her lips and was seen to shiver as she slowly put her slim little hands to the waistband of these bloomers and began very reluctant to pull them down from her buttocks. When she had disengaged the: as far as the elastic-enforced hems, she straightened a little an moved over towards Matron Farwell who was seated in the heavy straight-backed chair whose metal legs were fixed into the floor.
The stocky blonde matron wasted no time in taking charge of her unhappy victim. Seizing Dorothy by the shoulders, she dragge, the already whimpering girl across her spacious lap, adjusted her till the youngster's body was pressed as tightly against her torso as could be effected, and then circled her powerful left arm round the culprit's waist. Dorothy, with a tremulous sob, reached down for the rungs of the chair and grasped them so tightly that her knuckles whitened, while she abandoned herself.
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The matron reached down, and with her right hand dragged down the bloomers till they festooned around Dorothy's calves, thus acting as an effective fetter to prevent the threshing of her legs under the duress of punishment.
A quivering silence fell over the witnesses as well as the two chief actresses of this drama hidden within the four grim walls of the reformatory punishment chamber. For Beverly Tilson, it was an enervating moment. She had never before actually witnessed the act of corporal punishment. The straight-backed chair was so placed that from her vantage point she could look directly at the upreared naked bottom of the quivering victim. From the gracefully curving columns of Dorothy's thighs, her buttocks rose with a pleasing amplitude, considering that she was not quite fifteen. The cheeks were vivaciously rounded, with a broad, shadowy furrow separating them. In her anguished apprehension and her shame at being thus displayed before a stranger as well as the other matron and the superintendent, Dorothy had tightened the muscles of her legs and bottom to the maximum, as if to diminish not only the immodesty of what she revealed but also its considerable vulnerability.
The coarse black woolen stockings as well as the black blouse, which the matron now shoved up a little higher on the girl's back -- an unnecessary precaution, and inflicted on the culprit as still another nuance of humiliation to which she need submit -- was most exciting. Dorothy's skin was a warm tawny hue, and her lissom young back was deeply hollowed down to the chinkbone, whose prominence seemed to set off even more the effulgence of the firmly rounded contours of her bare bottom.
Matron Farwell turned her head to the right to catch the superintendent's eye. Miss Sinclair nodded, and leaned back in her chair, a faint smile on her lips. The matron tightened the grip of her left arm around the youngster's waist, and slowly passed her right hand over the tensing, huddling cheeks of Dorothy's bare behind. The culprit caught her breath with an audible gasp, knowing that this prelude signified the almost imminent commencement of her ordeal. She bowed her head down still farther, eyes tightly closed, and her slim little fingers restlessly shifted along the rungs of the chair to steel herself. Matron Farwell's hand slowly roamed over the quivering buttocks, appraising their resilience and likely resistance to the chastisement. Then abruptly, and without warning, she raised her right hand and brought it down sharply, the palm smacking noisely against the top of Dorothy's right buttock. Instantly the young girl stiffened, her hips seemed to swerve, and another stifled gasp was heard. Beverly Tilson saw a pink splotch slowly rise on the immaculate tawny sheen where the matron's hand had fallen for the first time. A moment later, with an equally sonorous sound, an equalizing outline of the matron's punishing palm was imprinted in bright pink on Dorothy's left bottom-globe, again drawing a faint gasp and a nervous squirming of the lovely bare hips.
For Beverly Tilson, the room was empty except for the red-haired culprit and her executioner. Her eyes glistened with avid excitement as they watched the matron's powerful right hand rise and fall, rise and fall, in a relentless and methodica cadence which spaced the stinging, smacking blows about ten seco apart, alternating them on the girl's naked buttocks, first righ then left. Matron Farwell was an accomplished correctress. Diligently she assailed poor little Dorothy's naked seat with crisp sonorous slaps, which descended from the summits to the tops restlessly squirming and shifting thighs, then ascended the gently rounded bottom-cheeks to the tops of the hips. She would then pause, then deliver two quick, smart slaps to the ripest arc of each buttock; and then the spanking resumed in the same unvarying pattern.
Dorothy did her best to remain stoic during this first part of her punishment. Not only was it obligatory upon her to remain in position, on penalty of added chastisement, but the knowledge that a stranger was present agonized her tender young modesty and made her resolve not to give the stocky blonde matron the satisfaction of knowing how painful the spanking was.
Nevertheless, by the time Matron Farwell had covered the young girl's bottom with a furious crimson hue as the result of two complete "tours" up and down the trembling, contracting, twitching globes, Dorothy began to find the burning pain intolerable. Tears ran down her cheeks; she raised her head, turning her distraught face back to plead for pardon, while sobs and choking gasps were interspersed with her timid plaints: "Ohhh --- pl--- please, Ma'am, oh it hurts -- oh, please, I'll be good --- Oww! I didn't mean to be naughty, truly I didn't -Aiii -- oh, Ma'am, please let me off just this once -- it hurts me so -- Arrr! I'll be good, oh please not so hard, please!"
But it was not until Matron Farwell had thrice sent her practiced and vigorous hand up and down the wriggling youngster's naked seat that she at last stopped, panting and perspiring with exertion. Dorothy lay sobbing across her lap, uncontrollably shaken by tremors which made the brightly flaming cheeks of her bottom quake and undulate and contract ... maneuvers which Beverly Tilson watched with rapidly pounding pulses and sensual excitement. That was the way Darlene was going to be punished once she got her in here! This and much, much more. And she would come to watch Darlene being spanked. The sly minx was such a goody-goody -- just wait till she had to take down her bloomers and turn up her bare seat for a smacking with everybody watching! Beverly Tilson could hardly wait for that moment to arrive. But meanwhile, she compensated by substituting the unfortunate young redhead in Darlene's place. And it was eminently satisfactory.
After a few moments, during which the unhappy girl was allowed to sob to her heart's content, Miss Sinclair now decreed: "Very well, Dorothy, it's time for the second part of your punish ment, you know. Get up and thank Matron Farwell for spanking you so well. Then you will go place yourself over the stool so that Matron Ellis may give you the rest o£ your spanking."
Slowly, her shoulders still shaking with sobs and tears rivuleting down her contorted, flushed cheeks, the weeping young redhead raised herself off Matron Farwell's ample lap. Her little hands stealthily sneaked behind her with agitated and feverish haste her flaming bare bottom as she tearfully stammered, "Th --Thank y --- you, M -- Matron F -- Farwell, for -- sp -- spanking me."
The stout blonde matron chuckled coarsely. "You're welcome, I'm sure. Now get over to the stool and don't keep Matron Ellis waiting, or you'll smart for it!"
Chapter Four
Dorothy turned a last despairing look towards the superintendent. Her lips tremblingly began what would certainly have been a plea for pardon had not the superintendent briskly interrupted with a strict, "You heard what Matron Farwell said, Dorothy. Don't make her have to repeat it, my girl!"
"N -- no, Ma'am, I -- I'm going," Dorothy sniffled. She hobbled slowly over to the iron footstool where Matron Ellis stood waiting for her. Again she hesitated, then with a despairing sob, resignedly bent herself down over the padded top. She gasped again with discomfort, for the rough leather which surfaced the iron footstool had been decorated with patches of coarse, bristly horsehair sewn over it, which scratched her tender skin.
The gray-haired matron swiftly went in front of the girl, squatted down and, seizing one of Dorothy's slender wrists, buckled a thin but strong leather strap round it; the other end of the strap was attached to the base of one of the iron legs. A moment later, on the other wrist was similarly attached. Dorothy began to sob more loudly now, for this pinioning signified to her the increasing severity of the second part of her spanking.
Matron Ellis had already procured the instrument of chastisement. It was a wellworn leather sole, black and shining. That sheen was not from polish, but from its constant application to the firm bare flesh of the bottoms of the inmates of the reformatory.
Moving to Dorothy's left, Matron Ellis placed her left palm upon the small of the girl's shivering back, lightly tapped the front part of the sole across the pouting inner edges of both huddling buttocks, and glanced back at the superintendent for authorization to begin. Miss Sinclair said aloud, "Count twenty, Dorothy. And remember, any that you don't count will be extras. Are you ready?"
A long shudder rippled through the draped-over half-nude body of the hed-haired culprit, and a tearfully stammered "Y -Yes, Ma'am, only -- pl -- please not too hard, please, Ma'am!" was heard. Miss Sinclair glanced at her guest; Beverly Tilson was quivering with impatience, her bosom rising and falling quickly now. Once again, she beheld Darlene tied over this very stool, her tender young virginal flesh exposed in this same shameful way, about to receive the burning kisses of the leather sole after her seat had been well warmed by a preparatory handspanking.
The superintendent slowly raised her right hand. Matron Ellis nodded, her thin lips tightening with visible satisfaction, and her left palm pressed down vigorously on the small of the girl's bar back. The sole rose in her other hand, hovered an instant over the trembling, reddened bare bottom, then swept down with a thunderous crack! It danced horizontally across the top of the right buttock, concentrating most of its sting towards the outer edge of the trembling hemisphere. A shrill cry of pain broke from the unhappy sufferer: "Owww!! Oh, one! Oh, how it hurts me! I'll be good, I'll never do it again, Ma'am!"
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At the moment of impact, Dorothy's hips lunged violently from side to side, and her strapped wrists tugged futilely at their bonds. Violent rippling tremors ran up and down her grace fully slender thighs, and now her soft sobbing resumed as Matron Ellis prepared for the next spank. It was delivered after a prolonged pause, during which the unfortunate girl raised her head, and it whacked crisply against the outer edge of the top of her other bottom-cheek, drawing a new plaintive wail which prefaced the count of "Two! Oh, pl -- please!"
By the time ten spanks had been administered, five to each buttock and each applied horizontally to the individual globe, Dorothy was twisting and jerking violently over her punishment stool, and imploring pardon, though she did not forget to count.
Matron Ellis allowed from fifteen to twenty seconds between strokes of the polished leather sole; at the halfway mark, she paused a full minute to let Dorothy exhale her sobs and plaints, then smartly tapped the base of the girl's bottom and muttered dryly, "Get ready for the rest now, you little vixen!" Then stepping slightly forward along Dorothy's left side, her left forefinger stabbing down into the small of the girl's quivering back, she resumed the spanking. This time, however, the sole bit vertically into the angrily reddened hemisphere, resuming again on the right cheek; fifteen seconds later, the sole flattened down the middle of the left bottom-globe; and under this new pattern of chastisement, Dorothy frantically jerked and twisted herself, crying out shrilly, "Aaahh:: Owww ooohh!! Oh, have pity, please don't spank me any more, I'll be so good, please, Ma'am!"
Her calling out of the count was drowned by her sobs and tears, and the superintendent, leaning forward, cautioned her: "You must call out each spank clearly, Dorothy, you know, or else it won't be accepted and you will just receive an extra. You have eight more with the sole. Proceed, Matron Ellis."
And once again, the bony gray-haired matron raised the leather sole and brought it down in a flashing arc to dance with a sonorous whack against the angrily and darkeningly colored right buttock of her suffering young patient. The last four spanks were inflicted diagonally, two over the tops of the naked young hips and angling downward towards the shadowy crease which separated the globes, the other two over the base of each buttock. Poor little Dorothy's screams and sobs had increased in volume by this time, and her counting out of the strokes was almost lost amid the clamor of her wails and cries of pain.
Matron Ellis dropped the sole onto the floor and walked slowly over to the panoply on the wall, reached out to take down the leather tawse. It was a strap about twenty-six inches in length, doubly thick at the first four inches of one end to serve as handle; at the last six inches of its gleaming black length, it was cut down the middle so that it resembled two "fingers" whose burning bite and sting was indeed formidable. Dorothy turned her face to the right to follow the matron's movement, and when she saw her take down the fearsome tawse, she implored hysterically: "Oh, Ma'am, please not the tawse.1 Oh please, please give me double with the sole, but let me off the tawse! I can't bear it, Ma'am, my poor seat's raw already, oh please, Ma'am!"
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Beverly Tilson glanced at her new friend, Miss Sinclair, who returned the look with an imperious smile as she replied, "You know very well, Dorothy, that I never go back on my word. You have earned the tawse, and you shall have it. If it hurts you, remember that you brought it on yourself with your naughtiness. You may have two minutes, no more, before you receive it. Thank me for my leniency."
Beverly Tilson could hardly believe her ears. Here, an unruly girl was subjugated and humbled. She was trained in humility to accept punishment and to endure every shading of humiliation and suspense and servility. She could have dreams of nothing better for her niece, and she counted it as the luckiest thing in the world that she had chanced to visit the Corduva Girls' Reformatory. For she heard poor little Dorothy tearfully stammer out her thanks for this "leniency" which had as its effect only the torturing prolongation of her already severe ordeal.
Beverly Tilson was trembling with excitement. Her eyes devoured the flaming hillocks of Dorothy's well-spanked bare bottom, watching the girl's frantic squirmings and wrigglings over the stool. The scrately horsehair surfacing its top rasped cruelly against her bared lower waist, adding to her torment, and her sobs and whimpering plaints continued, all the while Miss Sinclair studied her tiny Swiss wristwatch, counting the seconds silently, while the bony, gray-haired matron stood at the girl's left, facing her superintendent to await the latter's signal to resume the final part of Dorothy's spanking.
In a gently benign tone, Miss Sinclair suddenly said, "All right, Dorothy, time's up. Nine on the bottom, the last three on the thighs. I shall let you off counting, if you promise never to be impertinent and insubordinate again. The next time, it will be a good deal more, you know."
"Y -- yes -- M -- Ma'am -- oh -- ohh, please, Ma'am, don't let her sp -- spank me too h -- hard with that awful st -- strap -- please, Ma'am, my seat's so terribly sore already, Ma'am, I won't ever cause trouble again, I promise, I --AHRRR; OHH, IT HURTS, IT HURTS ME S0: OH LET ME OFF ANY MORE, MA'AM, FOR PITY'S SAKE, I'LL BE SO GOOD!"
Dorothy's poignant supplication was interrupted as Miss Sinclair having nodded, Matron Ellis turned back to her victim, stepped slightly more to the left, raised the tawse, and applied it with a whistling impact straight across the broadest curves of the young girl's already furiously inflamed bare bottom. The tips of the two "fingers" clacked round to bite against the tender regions of the loins, and a shrill, raucous lament was immediately torn from Dorothy. Her bottom jerked wildly under the tawse first malevolent, noisily smacking kiss, and her thighs clenched, then opened convulsively, while a violent shuddering spasm passed along those lovely lithe columns on up through the projected, discolored cheeks of her naked seat.
"That's one," said Matron Farwell, a cold smile on her lips and a spiteful glitter in her narrowed eyes.
The coppery-haired culprit writhed over the stool, her slim fingers feverishly shifting back and forth along the rungs of her altar of atonement, her hips continuing to jerk and weave and twist from side to side. Miss Sinclair leaned over to Beverly Tilson to whisper, "Sometimes, when they're very rebellious, we place a strap over the small of their backs so they can't move about so much and escape the spanks. But I think you'll agree that, judging from the freedom Dorothy has to move about, she is feeling her spanking for being so naughty."
"Oh, yes," breathed Darlene's spellbound aunt. For her blazing eyes still substituted her niece's luscious young body for Dorothy's over that grim spanking stool.
Matron Ellis wasn't in any hurry to end poor Dorothy's martyrdom. A grim smile on her thin lips, she let the tawse dangle from her right hand while she watched the girl's pathetic efforts to find an easier resting place over the martyrizing stool, and it was a full minute before she again drew back her arm.
Then instantly, the leather band again swept furiously across the plump summits, just an inch below the superimposed, angry broad red band left by the first stroke.
"OUOOOHHHAHRRRR.' OHH LORDIE, OH IT HURTS, OH MERCY, MA'AM, OH, PLEASE, MISS SINCLAIR, LET ME OFF ANY MORE, I WON'T EVER BE NAUGHTY AGAIN:" Dorothy shrieked, tugging at her strapped wrists and ankles, while her naked hips plunged and rolled and jerked in the most vehement and uncontrollable of spasms. Her tear contorted face was turned back to the left as she strove to catch the eye of the superintendent, while the other matron counted out "Two!"
"Isn't there a danger, Miss Sinclair," Beverly Tilson was whisperingly wondering, "of seriously injuring the poor girl with such a lengthy chastisement? Her bottom must be dreadfully sore by now."
"Oh, it is, it assuredly is, dear Mrs. Tilson," the superintendent beamed, without taking her eyes from the sobbing, writhing culprit. "But have no fear, Matron Ellis, as well as her associate there who is counting, is an expert in administering necessary corrections. The skin won't be broken, though of course Dorothy will be very tender there for at least a week. It is a good lesson, because it lingers and reminds the naughty girl not to recommence her misconduct. And though she is quite young, the reformatory physician, Dr. Leona Morton, assures me that she is quite able to bear it without drastic aftereffects."
While this conversation was going on, Matron Ellis now delivered the third spank of the leather tawse, which clung viciously to the lower summits of Dorothy's upreared bottom cheeks and sent the two strips whisking round to nip at still tenderer areas of her sensitive young flesh.
"OHHAHRRRRREEEEEEE;; OHH DON'T! OH PLEASE HAVE HER STOP, MISS SINCLAIR! I CAN'T STAND AMY MORE ON MY POOR SEAT.' OH DO HAVE MERCH AND LET ME OFF, I WON'T EVER BE NAUGHTY, NOT EVER; OH MY SEAT'S TORN AND RAW, OHH PLEASE, MA'AM, PLEASE;" the angonized penitent screamed as her hips violently twisted and shook as if to disperse the searing heat that by now must be suffusing her woefully striped and discolored bare behind.
The convulsive tremors that flexed through her delightfully slim thighs and calves spoke of the furious attack against her tender young nervous system. And the contrast between the dark, red, swollen contours of her charmingly ample young bottom with the smooth warm tawny skin of her thighs and lower back was hypnotically fascinating for Darlene's aunt, leaning forward, her bosom panting with excitement, as she followed every facet of this the first infliction of corporal punishment she had ever witnessed.
Matron Ellis paused even longer this time, while Dorothy writhed over the footstool, poignantly sobbing and imploring pardon. The fourth spank, wrapping round the base of both huddling naked bottom-globes and drawing an hysterical outburst of babbled pleas for mercy, made poor Dorothy arch and strain her legs so violently that the clattering of the stool's iron legs was heard.
The fifth spank followed with only a ten-second pause, this time smacking over the tops of the girl's upreared naked hips, and seemed to agonize the penitent even more, judging from her wildly sobbing shriek for pardon and the frenzied wrenching of her slim little wrists against their fettering straps.
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Now the executioner let her weeping, shuddering, helpless victim wait for an interminably long time before resuming the dustigation. In vain Dorothy pleaded with the superintendent to spare her any more, avowing she had been sufficiently punished to realize her misdeeds and pledging the most impeccable behaviour in the future. Miss Sinclair, smilingly glancing at her raptly intent guest, nodded -- and for the sixth time, after what was over two minutes of agonized suspense for the unfortunate youngster, the tawse intoned its sinister, whistling-smacking song over the top of the naked bottom, a little lower down from the previous darkening red band which the leather implement had painted over flesh already furiously tinted from hand and sole. This time Dorothy's cry was long and wordless, rising in pitch to testify to her intolerable suffering, while her bottom lunged and twisted and contracted in the most abandoned way.
The seventh spank took a minute's pause, throughout which Dorothy, all courage and resistance fled, continued to sob and beg for a remission of her sentence. It was diagonally admin istered, the tips of the strap biting home over the outer edge of the girl's right hip and wedding the broad band of the tawse down over the plumpening super summit of the right bottom-globe on over the shadowy groove and against the firm, rounded innercurving are of the left buttock where it met that intimate furrow.
"OHHH AHRRR! OHH MA'AM, MA'AM, I CAN'T STAND IT ANY MORE, I CAN'T, I CAN'T; OH HAVE HER STOP, OH PLEEEEEEASE, MA'AM.' I'M DYING, OH I'M DYING! OH IT HURTS SO BAD! OHH STOP;" Dorothy screamed raucously as her body lunged and jerked convulsively over the stool.
"Be brave, dear, and realize that this is for your own good," Miss Sinclair speciously interposed. "Two more on your naughty bottom, Dorothy, then three on the thighs and it will be over. You may proceed, Matron."
"OHH N00; NOO, OH NOT ANY MORE ON MY SORE RAW SEAT, OH PLEASE, I CAN'T -- EEEEYAHRRRROWW; OH I'M DYING; OHH STOP, STOP, OH HAVE MERCY, I'M GOING TO DIE, IT HURTS SO AWFULLY.'"
Once again poor Dorothy's wailing lamentation was harshly interrupted by the hissing music, then the clacking, biting fury of the tawse as, this time, stepping over to the writhing young girl's right, Matron Ellis directed the leather discipline diagonally over the violently livid backside, the tips of the tawse pinching the top of the left cheek and clinging the length of the leather band down across the huddling, jerking, shuddering round globes.
"That's eight," said Matron Farwell, and from her tone it was obvious that she was reluctant to see the punishment near its finish.
Dissolved in tears, hardly able to speak coherently from the fiery suffering that attacked her swollen posterior, Dorothy could only jerk at her straps and groan and whimper as her executioner, stepping back a little more and to the right, directed the ninth and final spank of the tawse from left to right in a broadly sweeping diagonal stroke under which both hemispheres flattened, then danced in an endless choreography of pain. The girl's prolonged, risingly shrill shriek attested to the severity of the spank, and she lay shuddering over the stool, abandoning herself, while the muscles of her lividly splotched and streaked naked bottom took over in their own uncontrollable "dance" which is infallibly the evidence of a thorough castigation.
Once again Dorothy was given a two-minute respite. She wept without cease, arching and twisting herself restlessly in a futile attempt to alleviate the scorching pangs that swept through every cranny of her out-thrust, upreared bare buttocks. Not an inch of untouched smooth tawny skin remained. Yet even Beverly Tilson,in her role as amateur, could see that no where was the skin broken.
At the end of the two minutes, Matron Farwell approached the whimpering culprit, squatted down, and, tugging down the elastic garters which held Dorothy's black woolen stockings up at midthigh, swiftly rolled the hose down to the girl's ankles, exposing not only her charmingly graceful thighs but also the sinuously sleek contours of her attractively proportioned calves. Dorothy began to weep again, louder than ever at this ominous preparation, and the superintendent rebuked her: "Stop your silly crying, girl! You know you've deserved this. And before our distinguished guest, to make such a fuss over a spanking! I've half a mind to let Matron Ellis give you a half-dozen over your thighs instead of the three. Now show your docility by accepting the rest of your spanking without any more of this screeching, which deafens our ears! Go ahead, Matron!"
Aware even through the feverish pain that relentlessly besieged her flesh and nerves of the danger she ran in offending the superintendent, poor little Dorothy made an heroic effort to compress her lips, but she could not control the shuddering flexions that assailed her hips and thighs.
Nor, indeed, the woebegone screams of real suffering when, slowly, almost a minute apart, the leather tawse dashed across the smooth, gentle rondures of her quaking thighs, thrice visiting those hitherto untouched regions with instantly darkening broad weals.
At last it was over. Matron Farwell unstrapped the weeping girl's wrists and ankles after first pulling back the stockings and snapping the garters into place. As she did so, purposely letting the elastic bands snap loudly and drawing new sobs from the halfswooning young culprit, she jibed, "Now maybe next time you won't sass your betters, Dorothy!"
Once the girl's ankles were freed, Matron Ellis herself deigned to draw back up the gray cotton bloomers with their elastic-reenforced legs and waistband, while Dorothy continued to cry histerically, for even the restoration of the garment of modesty was an anguish for her, swollen and throbbing with fiery pain as her bottom was. Then the two women helped her to her feet and led her, head bowed, stumbling, whimpering, out of the punishment chamber.
Superintendent Monica Sinclair rose, turned to her attractive guest. "You realize, Mrs. Tilson, that I permitted you to watch this in the strictest confidence," she remarked. "It's only because you've expressed yourself so sympathetically in the cause of rehabilitation o£ naughty girls."
"Oh, thank you, Miss Sinclair," Beverly Tilson's voice shook with emotion, and her face was flushed. "I shan't forget what I saw. Thank you for letting me watch. I am convinced now what steps I must take to get my poor misguided niece back onto the path of obedience and docility."
"Yes, it's the only sure way, I'm sure, Mrs. Tilson. I do hope your niece will benefit from your inspiring guidance, and that I shall not have occasion to see her here."
Beverly Tilson shook her head, uttering a sigh of feigned doubt. "I sometimes wonder, dear Miss Sinclair, if it isn't too late now for Darlene to be restored to ladylike conduct. I'm terribly afraid she is too steeped in the errors of her headstrong ways for me to hope to effect rehabilitation by myself."
A significant pause ensued, and both women eyed each other. What the superintendent read in Darlene's aunt's eyes made her smile, then, and say softly, "I do hope you are wrong, Mrs. Tilson. But you may be sure, if your niece should by any chance come under my supervision, we here at Corduva can do all that is necessary to make rehabilitation quite realizable."
CHAPTER FIVE
Back home in Markheim, Beverly Tilson told her husband of her visit to Corduva and the remarkable way in which recalcitrant girls and young women were "ameliorated" by the "wonderful work" of Superintendent Monica Sinclair and her staunch confederates, Matrons Farwell and Ellis.
Gregory Tilson chuckled. "I'm no more anxious to be bothered with the upbringing of a juvenile than you, Beverly my dear," he replied, "but one doesn't shunt off an unwanted rela tive by sending her to a reformatory without cause. And Darlene is hardly the type that belongs in a place like that. It's for young criminals and vagrants and unreliable juveniles."
"Mark my words, Gregory, Darlene has pulled the wool over both our eyes. I'm certain of it. You and I mistake her sneakiness for sweetness and docility. If you have proof that she is utterly reprehensible, I trust you won't stand in the way of whatever consequences she brings on herself."
"Of course not, if she deserves it. But I'm reasonably sure there'll be no such occurrence. She's lonely and sensitive and shy, that's all. And she doesn't warm to either of us, though I can't blame her, having lost her parents as she's done."
Beverly Tilson didn't pursue the conversation. She was satisfied that her husband wouldn't put up any opposition to the furtherance of her plan, once he was given proof that Darlene Adams was incorrigible and in need of stronger discipline than her own aunt and uncle could mete out to her.
A week passed, and Beverly Tilson lost her trusted maid, the girl coming to her only a day after the visit to the reformatory with the news that she had suddenly got engaged and was going to be married.
This was an unforeseen delay to Beverly Tilson's scheme, but luck smiled on her by the end of the week. She had applied to a local employment agency to send her a replacement, and on Saturday a saucy-faced, green-eyes brunette of medium height, with jet black hair in a piquant ponytail, rang the bell of the Tilson home.
Gregory Tilson was out of town on business, and Darlene had gone to the movies. Beverly Tilson ushered the girl into the living room and began to interview her.
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Her name was Kitty Warren; she was twenty-one, had worked as a maid in two other homes for six months each, and before that for two years as a clerk in a local department store. Her references were, Beverly Tilson noted, not of the best; apparently she had been discharged from her last position as a maid under the cloud of mistreating the twelve-year-old daughter of her employer by slapping her harshly. Beverly drew Kitty out on the subject, for this defect which would normally have caused her to reject the applicant was actually a virtue in her present scheme of things.
Kitty flushed, shifted in the armchair. "I know I oughtn't to have slapped Jenifer, Ma'am, but the little brat was sticking her tongue out at me and getting just out of hand. What I really ught to have done was to turn her over and paddle her hind end for her, that's what. you ask me, Ma'am, too many brats don't know what a licking is, but it would sure straighten them out if they ever got a good one."
"I'm inclined to agree with you, Kitty," Beverly Tilson mused, with an appraising glance at the brunette. She had a turned-up nose, ripe small mouth, and warm olive skin, and the knowing look in her green eyes suggested that she wasn't born yesterday.
"I may give you a chance, Kitty. If you're trustworthy, you'll earn more than I'm going to start you off with. I want you particularly to watch my niece Darlene -- she's out right now, but she's a very irritating child and needs discipline. I may have to send her to a private school or even a juvenile home if she doesn't mend her ways."
"I see, Ma'am. I guess she never got spanked either, eh?"
"No." Beverly Tilson frowned and was silent for a moment. Then she looked direct at the saucy brunette. "Were you, Kitty?'
"Oh, Lord love you, Ma'am, many's the time my dad took my panties down and whaled sense into me. Me and my three sisters. Mom did it too, till she died three years ago. We got kept in line but good. And old as I am, Ma'am, even today, Dad'd give me the over-the-lap treatment, pull up and pull down and spank if he cought me doing something I oughtn't to."
Beverly Tilson trembled with ill concealed excitement. Kitty had all the qualifications she sought in a conspiratorial id to foment her plot against unsuspecting Darlene Adams. But what was more, the saucy brunette's admission of her acquaintance with corporal punishment titillated the mature woman's burning desire to inflict it. The scene at the reformatory had haunted her, till it was all she could do to refrain from experimenting on her niece, but she couldn't very well without cause, and so far Darlene hadn't given her a valid reason. And to punish capriciously ran the risk of having even her husband step in and uphold Darlene's innocence. No, it had to be done her way, so that even Gregory wouldn't object to Darlene's incarceration at Corduva. And Kitty was going to be the catalytic agent.
"You know, Kitty," she said slowly and meaningfully, eyeing the attractive young brunette, "I'm very demanding of my maids. I want a good deal of service, but I'm willing to pay well for it."
"Yes, Ma'am?" Kitty cocked her head and looked at her prospective employer, a cajoling smile on her luscious mouth.
"If you were naughty, Kitty, seeing that you've been spanked at home, I might feel that keeping up the treatment would be in order here," she ventured.
Kitty giggled, squirmed in her seat. "I guess if I had it coming, I couldn't very well stop you, Ma'am. ause my dad would lick the tar out of me if I got fired from a job. He did my last two ones, that's a fact, even though I wasn't all to blame, honest, Ma'am."
"I believe you, my dear."
"And anyway," Kitty winked, "you couldn't spank nearly so hard as Did does when he's mad, I bet."
Beverly Tilson's pulses began to pound at the impudently teasing way Kitty was looking at her, saying a thing like that.
Feigning a joking little laugh, she countered, "You might be quite wrong, Kitty. Don't try to find out."
"Maybe I better had, just in case I'm biting off more than I can chew, so to speak," was Kitty's brazen answer, and there wasn't any mistaking her meaning. Beverly Tilson flushed, trying hard to maintain an even level in her voice as she answered, "If that means you want a spanking right now to find out whether you can take it and work for me, I've no objections to giving you one, my dear."
"Okay, Ma'am, why not? You know something? Sometimes I et restless and like with spring fever. And whenever Dad spanks my bottom, it seems to drive all the mischief out of me. Maybe that's what I do need right now, at that."
So saying, she got up and walked over to the couch where Beverly Tilson sat, and to Darlene's aunt's astonishment, draped herself passively over her lap. Then, pillowing her head on her folded arms and turning her provocatively saucy face back towards her new employer, she gigglingly vouchsafed: "Okay, I'm ready."
Hesitantly, Beverly Tilson circled her left arm round the girl's supple waist. Kitty's blue cotton dress clung enchantingly to her voluptuous figure, shaping out plump,-closely set buttocks and round firm thighs under the thin skirt. As she tightened her rm, Kitty squirmed invitingly. Beverly Tilson raised her right hand and applied a tentative, light spank on one of the plump cheeks, startled at the springy resilience of the flesh beneath the skirt.
"Oh my goodness, aren't you going to pull up and pull down the way Dad does? He says a spanking's no good unless it's on the bare," Kitty impertinently remarked, glancing round, her yes sparkling and her lips parted in the most impish of moues.
"All right, young lady," Beverly Tilson exclaimed. "Remember, you asked for it." With this carte blanche she hesitated no longer. Trussing up the skirt and the white silk halfslip beneath, she uncovered a magnificent, ripe, tightly spaced pair of buttocks snugly veiled in pink silk suspants, whose tiny tabs hooked onto the tops of Kitty's sheer off-black nylons.
It was an ecstatic if fumbling moment for Darlene's aunt as she unfastened the tabs, then dragged down the thin sheath to Kitty's round full thighs, baring the most impudently upturned, spacious bottom she had ever seen, its satiny skin a warm rich olive sheen.
Kitty tightened her muscles in a sign of pretended apprehension, and Darlene's aunt shivered with anticipation -- the same kind she had experienced in the punishment room at Corduva. But this time, the exhilarating sensation of being herself the active participant in the humiliating chastisement -- for, though she was quite aware that Kitty was complacently play acting, she again could mentally visualize her own niece lying exactly where itty was now ready for spanking -- was well-nigh intoxicating.
"Now I'm going to make sure you're a good maid and obey your mistress, Kitty," she promised, and then her right hand fell with an authoritative smack on the left bottom summit. The bright pink outline of her palm instantly glowed on the soft olive globe and Kitty wriggled deliciously, her eyes widening. It was exquisitely thrilling!
Thus enheartened, Beverly Tilson began to spank with growing confidence and enthusiasm. Alternating on the bare ripe hillocks of Kitty Warren's posterior, which soon began to redden and to squirm just as Dorothy's had, inspired by Kitty's little squeals and gasps as her ardor and the vigor of the slaps increased, Beverly Tilson warmed to this wonderfully rewarding, novel game. She gave Kitty's plump olive sheened bare bottom at least fifty hard stinging slaps, and the fiery shade imparted was hugely satisfying. So were Kitty's yipes and "Ooohs!" and "Ahhs!" and "Ouch, that hurt!" and her dancing, weaving gyrations towards the end of the spanking.
When it was over, Beverly Tilson was out of breath and trembling with excitement. She herself pulled up Kitty's suspants and resecured the stocking tabs, then drew down the skirt and half slip. "Now maybe you'll be a good girl in my service," she admonished. Kitty got up, ruefully rubbing her bottom, tears misting her dilated eyes. "You better believe it, Ma'am," she giggled. "Ouch, you spank pretty good. It's a wonder you don't teach your niece manners the same way."
"You're going to help me, dear. Now, can you move in with us this very afternoon?" Beverly Tilson purred. She had found her conspiratorial aid at last.
